


Last Chance

by Schrodingers_Rufus



Series: Last Chance [1]
Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Fix-It, Gen, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 01:10:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9855398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schrodingers_Rufus/pseuds/Schrodingers_Rufus
Summary: Jay wakes up sprawled across the grass on the first day of filming, missing a hole in his side.





	

Jay breached the surface, blinking and gasping for air. The sun burned his eyes, and he screwed them shut, rolling onto his side and tucking his knees up against his chest. His hand was empty _where’s the camera, where’s the camera_ \--  


He felt something grip his shoulder, and he yanked back, eyes flying open. Alex looked down at him, sun reflecting off his glasses. 

He scrambled back, limbs clumsy, fingers digging into the dirt. “Get _away_ from me!” 

Alex tilted his head, and Jay could see his eyes, wide with something that looked like confusion. Maybe _concern_. “It’s okay, you’re okay,” he mumbled in that painfully familiar half-monotone, hands up in surrender, backing away. 

Jay gripped at his side, remembering the white-hot burn of a bullet hole. Nothing. _Nothing._

And then someone else was kneeling next to him, close but not touching, asking if he should call 911, if this had happened before, and it was _Brian_ , the sun behind his hair making him look downright angelic. Jay could feel pinpricks at the corners of his eyes, and he couldn’t tell if it was from confusion or frustration or something else entirely. He swiped at his eyes, trying to maintain the last scraps of dignity he had left.

“What--What happened?” he managed, unable to keep his voice from stuttering through even a question as simple as that.

“You just passed out,” Alex called from several feet away, visibly hesitant to get any closer. 

Jay could see Seth behind him, one hand resting on the tripod-mounted camera-- _the light was on, still recording_ \--looking to Alex like he was waiting for the right moment to ask a question. Sarah stood next to Seth, brow furrowed and gripping a crumpled script. Much farther back, leaning against a tree and watching warily out of the corner of his eye was Tim, face rounder and younger and _oh god, this was really happening_. 

“What day is it?” The words came out without thinking, though, admittedly, that was nothing new. 

At that, Brian’s concerned frown grew deeper. “It’s June sixth.” 

“Two thousand six?” 

The slow nod Brian gave him in response made his skin crawl with humiliation--of _course_ it was two thousand six, and if he was trying to convince them he was fine, he was doing basically the worst possible job--and then his mouth was running again. “Six-six-six. Number of the beast.” He let out a pained chuckle, but even that faded when Brian’s frown deepened further. “Or whatever.”

“You should probably see a doctor,” Brian suggested, gently but firmly. 

His mind again skipped back to the bark of a gun, the burning hole in his side. “Yeah, probably,” he admitted, eyes flitting briefly to Alex and then to the trees behind him, so as to avoid eye contact. “I don’t really have a history of this kind of--” 

And there it was, half-concealed by branches, and Jay was on his feet, head spinning. 

“We have to go-- _now_ \--we have to run--”

Brian took a step closer, and he _wasn’t running why wasn’t he running_. “Jay, what’s going on?” 

“There’s something out there.” Jay shifted from side to side, the adrenaline in his bloodstream screaming at him to move. “And we have to go _now_.” 

“We’re not finished the shoot--” Alex started, but Brian cut him off. 

“Let’s just go.” Brian’s tone didn’t leave room for argument. “We can work late tomorrow.” 

“But the lighting won’t--” 

Jay didn’t see the expression on Brian’s face when he looked back at Alex, but he saw Alex deflate and mutter something to Seth, who started folding up the tripod. That was enough. They were _moving_. Jay turned on his heel and sprinted for the parking lot, ignoring the shouts behind him.

He took a shortcut through the bushes, letting out a short, frantic laugh of relief when he caught sight of the hood of Alex’s car (the old one, the one that broke down at the beginning of August, before he moved away). He leaned heavily against it, letting himself catch his breath. He was really starting to get to know his way around Rosswood, and the realization was enough to set him laughing again. 

That was how the others found him, half-sprawled across the hood of Alex’s car, laughing so hard it no longer felt like laughter. His stomach ached, his lungs ached, everything _hurt_ , and he entertained the notion that maybe none of this was real, that maybe this was all that _thing_ taunting him. 

Alex approached Jay first, and the sheer ridiculousness of that, of the man who shot him down in cold blood meekly sidling up to him like _he_ was the one to be worried about was nearly enough to send him into another round of hysterics.

“Hey,” Alex started, his voice flat. “You okay?”

Jay took a deep breath, trying to level himself out. He finally tilted his head to look up at Alex, forcing himself to make eye contact. “We need to find another location.” 

Alex sputtered. “What-- _no!_ We already scouted out Rosswood. We don’t have time to do it all over again.”

“Alex. Look at me. Rosswood isn’t safe.” 

Alex started to pace, his hands grasping at nothing. “ _Art_ isn’t safe!”

Jay couldn’t keep himself from rolling his eyes, and he thought he heard a suppressed chuckle from Tim.

Brian cut in before Jay could think of how to respond. “Look, let’s just go home--” He shot Jay a meaningful look, which Jay guessed meant _‘doctor.’_ “--and figure this all out tomorrow.” 

“Not at Rosswood,” Jay said, as firmly as he could manage. 

Brian nodded. “Not at Rosswood.”

“...Not at Rosswood,” Alex eventually conceded. 

And with that, the group dispersed. Seth loaded the tripod into the trunk of Alex’s car, shooting Jay an odd look as he climbed into the back. Alex climbed into the driver’s seat, kneading his forehead. Sarah folded the script into her purse, tossing it into the passenger’s seat of her own car. Brian told Tim he’d bring the car around in a second, heading off toward the far end of the parking lot at a jog.

That left Tim. Jay watched him out of the corner of his eye as he waited for Brian, shifting his weight, eyes locked on the pavement, thumb absent-mindedly rubbing against a cheap plastic lighter. 

“Thanks,” Tim muttered, and despite himself, Jay jumped at the unexpected sound.

Not meeting Tim’s eyes, Jay scratched at the back of his head. “Anytime.”    


End file.
